Transparent curtain
by daniellemcfarlane
Summary: C/h A glance was all she needed to see him. Will he let her continue to look in?


A/N: I own nothing but the idea.

Pain.

It shot through her shoulder knocking her off her feet. The squeals of the pigs grew distant in her ears as her vision started to blur. Slowly she looked up. This took more effort then it should, it must have been some kind of tranquilizer. The world was melting around her.

She met his eyes. For the first time in a long time Clarice felt fear.

The world went black as her head hit the ground, his name; her last conscious thought.

Hannibal.

Numb. She felt nothing. Her mind swirled with what had happened. He had been cutting himself free. Those pigs had been so loud. Something had hit her shoulder. Oh god, she had passed out, and he had been free. But wait, where was she now? A better question was where was he?

The softness of a bed under her, sheets over her skin. Skin!? Where were her clothes, who's bed? Her mind was running in circles. Her breath caught from the effort it took to make her eyes open. She hadn't expected to see his eyes so close. She hadn't been prepared to see the raw emotion displayed in them. Opening her mouth she had been about to speak but his shaken voice cut her off.

"Well hello, Clarice," his voice mirrored the struggle in his eyes.

It struck her in that moment how unsettled he looked. Gone was the arrogance and self assured creature who had ran her through with his harsh verbal sparring and cutting truths. Now beside her sat a man who looked shaken and miles past exhaustion.

He had a wound above his eye that looked like it needed medical attention and she noticed he held his jaw clenched. "Dr Lecter," she said, her voice half whisper and gravel, "what happened?"

Had his jaw relaxed at her words? Did she hear his breath hitch? She attempted to focus on his response but her eyes were drawn to all the things he didn't say.

He avoided the question and instead asked how she was feeling. Did her shoulder hurt? Was she feeling lightheaded? Could he get her anything?

The questions came rapid-fire and she found herself struggling to keep up. She asked for only one thing, answers. Was it hesitancy she saw in his eyes? Perhaps guilt? He spoke so softly she had to lean forward to make out his words.

"Always so persistent my dear."

It came back slowly. She watched his eyes change. Calm and control smoothed over the turbulent emotions she had seen. With this calm came his normal biting words again.

"Come now Clarice, are you so eager to whisk me back to my cage that you can't spare a minute to advise me of your well being? Surely old Jack can wait."

She felt the tension of annoyance make it's way through her. She counted to 10 in her mind, slowly let it leave her lips as a puff of breath. Had his nostrils flared?

"I'm fine Doctor. Now please, enlighten me as to where we are? What happened to your face?"

His head cocked to the side slightly. She braced herself for the sting of his response.

"More pressing matters my dear? What question, do you think, is the after thought?"

She lowered her eyes. Why did he cut so deeply? He knew she was concerned and that it was more important then their whereabouts. She attempted a witty response anyways.

"Well Doctor, they kind of go hand-in-hand. If you pass out, and you look rather close to doing so I might add, and you neglect to tell me where we are, we would both be in a spot wouldn't we?"

He clicked his tongue. She had tried! Her head was fuzzy and she wasn't as fast with her words as she would have liked to be.

"Safe," he said standing slowly.

"That's not a place!" Her voice came out too loud. She struggled to sit up and the world spun.

He was back at her side again. Had she seen concern in his eyes?

"Rest." The word sounded like a plea to her. She tried to look deeper in his eyes but he was walking out.

She let her head sink in to the pillow. Who's bed was this? God she hated feeling so foggy. More than that though she hated the emotions she saw in his eyes. They were too close to her own.

"What about you?" She called.

He stopped but did not turn, his hand on the doorknob.

"I'm ok," he said. Again so softly she almost missed it.

She blew out another frustrated breath as she heard the door click shut. Of course he would be nothing but ok with his face half covered in blood.

She woke up suddenly. Someone was crying out. She put her feet on the ground, realizing she was in a dress of some kind. Anger shot through her, hot and raw. She held on to the feeling to ground herself. Did he think she was a doll he could dress up? The cry tore her from her thoughts such anguish. She rushed out of the room to find its source.

She didn't have to go far. Across from the room she had been in was another, it's door closed. She stood with her fingers on the knob, unsure if she should enter.

"Mischa!"

The choice was made for her.

For a moment she couldn't move, only take in what was in front of her eyes.

He lay amidst a tangle of sheets. She noticed how swollen the one side of his face was. She felt something break inside of her when she saw tears on his cheek.

She didn't realize until she had moved closer until she heard herself calling him.

"Dr Lecter, wake up, your having a nightmare." Why was her voice shaking? She tried again.

"Wake up! Your dreaming."

She hadn't meant to touch him but when her fingers found his skin she lost her voice. She shook him hard.

Suddenly his eyes opened. They were not eyes she had ever seen before. She hoped to never see them again. So much anger and pain, and emptiness. She realized the lights were on but no one was home.

She went to move back but wasn't fast enough. She found her back against a wall. He reached for her neck.

"Hann," he cut off his name from her lips as he tightened his grip.

The strength in his hands didn't surprise her. She thought of how those hands had earlier removed a bullet from her shoulder. She reached for his face. Her fingers slipped over the tears on his cheek. The edges of her vision started to go black. She slid to the ground as he let her go, coughing and gasping for air. Tears slid down her cheeks from the shock of it. He stood there, hands dropped to his side. In his eyes was the last drop of resistance she had. She broke as it dropped to the floor.

A few quick motions and she was back to her room. She had no doubt he was where she saw him last. Still standing motionless. She touched where his fingers had squeezed minutes ago. The pain throbbed in time with her heart. She sank down on the edge of the bed, her head held in her hands. She knew she was at a turning point and readied herself for the internal battle. Funny she would start a internal war when she knew deep down she already made her choice.

The moment she left for the farm she knew. It had taken years a slow shedding of layers. She resisted at first but slowly she warmed. She found it no longer hurt when he exposed a truth she kept hid away. When he exposed them, raw and gleaming for himself alone she felt freed. Every conversation, every look through bars and glass only heightened what she knew from day one. They had something powerful. He had exposed her mind so easily but instead of breaking it like he had so many others he had told her to look to a mirror to see what she so needed to silence her demons. It had only just dawned on her that he, with his outer calm, might have some of his own that need slaying. She suddenly ached to silence them. The look in his eyes had hurt more then she thought possible. She realized she loved him and she found calm in the knowledge.

Slowly she lifted herself. Sitting caught in her thoughts was helping nothing. Walking to the door she looked across the hall. The room was empty. He had made the bed. Window dressing she thought, to cover the turmoil. The blankets had been pulled tight not a wrinkle to be seen. Turning, she made her way downstairs.

When she saw Paul sitting at the table something inside her twitched in irritation. Why did he have to put on a show? Why so many distractions from the situation at hand?

Hannibal turned from the stove. "Ah my dear, I hope a dinner guest is acceptable to you?"

His words were calm again. It was clearly a choice he had already made for her, now she would make one for him, or try. "Actually Doctor, I do mind. You know damn well I do. Yet you throw salt in to the wounds that you picked open."

Jaw muscles tensed. She couldn't stop the forward momentum though and she kept going before she could think. "What if I put some in yours? Who is Mischa?"

Would he end her now? The sudden cold that came over his features made her think it a real possibility.

"Why Clarice? Feeling insecure are we? Do you see me as a lamb you can save now? What, do you think daddy would say hmm? Make an attempt at an answer, my dear."

Anger. The words were thick with it. Taking a deep breath she held back hers, all or nothing was needed here.

"You're hardly a lamb Doctor. Your screams cut me deeper then they ever have. My father is gone, he doesn't dictate my choices, nor do you. I will not take part in this game. I saw you earlier, this here, its damage control."

Blood boiled in her veins as she looked at Paul. It was obvious something was wrong, drugs? Hannibal's eyes dig in to her back. Ignoring them she looked closer. Something was wrong with his head, the skull had been cut. Anger came fast and she spun to face its source. "Why?!" the words tumbled out of her, "why toy with me like this. Wasn't it enough I was there? What do you plan to accomplish with this? Did I surprise you for once, knock you off balance by showing up! When the tables turn on you, this is how you push back? I know he is as good as dead. Theatrics will make me harden to you, they won't make me leave so do not waste your time on them."

Coughing blew out the remaining flames of her anger. Feeling drained she stood silent and exposed, for now nothing had changed.

"While toying with you sounds delightful I assure you Clarice it was not my intent. Enough for what exactly? While you showing up did admittedly surprise me I hardly think it accounts for ownership."

A snort escaped her as she shook her head. He ignored it and continued.

"As to time, it really does have a way of slipping away doesn't it? How long, do you think, Paul has left?"

It would have been easy to respond in anger, he probably wanted her to, She did not.

"How much time do we have left?" The words came out a whisper, "I've spent years resisting the idea of us. I'm not any more. Leave him to his time so we can stop letting ours pass."

Anger in his face was not what she had meant to evoke. The clenched jaw and cold eyes showed she had done just that though.

"I hardly want your pity Clarice, save it for someone more receptive to it. You see turmoil in my eyes and think you know me now hmm? Never forget my dear who I am."

He lunged at her then, teeth bared and eyes unreadable. Feeling no fear she tipped her head back exposing her neck and the now bruised skin. The change in his eyes came first followed by his face. Even with her head tilted back she had kept her eyes open to watch.

"Run back to your nest little starling," his voice was a breeze on her skin.

Bringing her head down she met his eyes and shook her head.

"I'm done running from you. Let me walk with you instead?"

A soft inhale of breath, a blink of his eyes. Was he surprised? Annoyed? As always he gave nothing away. "Is it your new life mission to rattle me so?"

She shook her head again. "Make an attempt at a answer, Doctor" her words were soft, in her eyes the glint of a smile. A slight nod and he stepped back from her, as if nothing had happened.

"Come along then," his hand outstretched to hers. Taking one last look at Paul she took it.

Their steps were steady as they walked out the door. She wished she could say the same about her breathing. Walking with him would be hard when he refused to let her in. Now with all the time they needed ahead of them she hoped one day he would.

Fin

A/N: what do you all think? Should I do a sequel? Is it garbage? Reviews are welcome. Thank you to whoever took the time to read!


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